A/N: This story was actually written by a group of people who met on Gaia and thought, "Hey, let's write a story together!" Those weren't the actual words, but you get the idea. The list of characters we created and who created them is on our profile. This is not a Mary-Sue fic. With four people writing, we're able to check each other to keep our characters from becoming Mary-Sues (or Gary-Stus in the case of one character). Reviews are much appreciated!
Disclaimer: We do not own Death Note...obviously.
Prologue
Wammy's House, 3:26 A.M., October 15, 2003
Roger's computer pinged, whirring for a moment before shutting itself down again.
That was a usual event in the orphanage. Quillish Wammy, otherwise known as "Watari," would not bother with time-zone differences and send him an email at any time of the day concerning new genii that he had sent on their way across the world to Wammy's House, in England. The so-called "Orphanage," a haven for gifted children, took it's shape in a Victorian mansion with over 300 rooms, 30 bathrooms (most of them installed after being purchased by L), 40 classrooms, a library that put the Library of Congress to shame, several sitting rooms and play rooms, a computer lab updated with the newest of everything, and several eating areas.
By plane and boat, car and jet, they came to the school. He had just over 120 in his care now, along with 20 cooks, 50-something maids, and 57 specialized teachers. There were very few generic classes, just English and Math. From there on out the students pursued their interests. The teachers lived on-site in the many rooms, all sworn to secrecy due to not only who they were teaching, but also the nature of what the children were being taught to be.
Originally, the orphanage had been to decide the next successor to L. It had focused on detective work and very little else.
The students complained, and being the genii they were, somehow got a message to L through Watari. Roger suspected a midnight break-in to his office was involved.
Well, one way or another, they now had nearly 3 students to each teacher, on average. They did what suited him, but thankfully enough, a large margin still wanted to do detective work.
All that passed through the middle-aged man's mind as he made his way to the computer, booting up the monitor and reading the email.
New students, several of them.
He pressed an intercom button and had rooms made up for them. They would arrive within a few days, and he did not want any last minute scrambles for a place to put them.
Auburn, Illinois, 8:32 A.M., October 16, 2003
Sunlight streamed through high hospital windows, falling upon a small brown traveling bag and the sleek black plastic of a violin case. Christine Xavier reached down and snapped the twin latches on the case shut. She put her hands on her hips, and the ten-year-old's serious posture as she surveyed the room was almost comical.
Now, where had she left it?
Upon spying the stack of textbooks on her bedside table, her eyes widened in something close to horror. Her small fingers nimbly extracted a thick manila folder, covered with looping key-signatures and scratched out measures of music in awkward child's handwriting, from the bottom of the pile. She held it to herself as though it was something precious and irreplaceable. How could she have possibly forgotten? She dug around in the pocket of her jeans for a moment and produced a crumpled piece of notebook paper, covered in the same childish handwriting. Smoothing the paper lovingly, Christine placed it onto the folder with the utmost care.
"Chrissy?" called a soft voice.
The little girl's bright blue eyes snapped up at the sound of the voice. A woman in scrubs adorned with dancing teddy bears peeked around the door. "Ready to go, honey?" she asked.
"Yes, Rachel," Christine answered, eyes to the ground.
"Okay, I'll get your stuff," Rachel said, in the same gentle tone. "We've gotta take a taxi to the airport to get there on time."
"Alright," Christine replied. "Oh, Rachel," she added, vaguely gesturing at the stack of books on her nightstand, "the doctors can have their books back. I'm finished reading them."
The taxicab smelled of cats and unwashed laundry. Christine had no problem telling exactly that to the unshaven driver. The ride to the airport was a long and rather uncomfortable one.
"Thank you very much for the ride, sir!" Rachel said loudly, urging Christine to do the same.
"Thank you, sir," Christine said half-heartedly. "Don't pay him, Rachel!" She hissed, as the nurse handed the driver a few bills. The cabbie snatched his money slammed the door in her face.
"Christine!" Rachel scolded, "You can't be rude to people like that!"
"Of course not. I'm sorry, Rachel," Christine said, hanging her head and looking the picture of contrition. She wasn't sorry; not really. She was sorry that the cabbie had slammed the door on Rachel, but she was not sorry for what she had said.
Rachel smiled, "C'mon, Chris, let's go. How about you take the violin?"
Christine eagerly held out her hands for the instrument, tucking it carefully under her arm. "We can't miss my flight!" She said, smiling at Rachel.
Rachel smiled back, put a hand on Christine's shoulder, and guided her through the revolving doors of the airport.
The roof of the airport was an enormous window made of hundreds of panes of glass. Christine stared at it as she passed underneath, feeling the sunlight wash over her. Miles above her head a jet flew low, preparing to land. She marveled at the architecture, judging how they must have tempered and set the glass so it would hold up against the noise and vibrations of the planes overhead.
"C'mon, honey," Rachel said, "We've still got to meet Mr. Wammy."
"Why can't I just ride the plane alone?" Christine asked, finally showing the apprehension she'd been keeping back since she'd been invited to Wammy's House.
"You know I'm not gonna let you do that, Chris."
"And I guess you have to go back to the hospital after this," Christine sighed.
"Yeah," Rachel said. "Hey, don't worry. It's better for you to be at the House than to be at the hospital. You can be happy there."
Christine looked away. She couldn't deny that the House would be better for her. She would finally be with children more like herself. But would she really be happy? That remained to be seen.
Rachel spied an older man sitting serenely in the waiting area, hands folded in his lap. He spotted Rachel and smiled.
"Oh, here he is," she said, as the man stood up and began strolling over to them. "Let's be polite, okay."
"Of course, Rachel," Christine said. She meant it.
"Chris, how about you go over and put your stuff on the luggage belt?" Rachel said, wanting a few private words with Mr. Wammy.
"Do I have to give them my music?"
"No, just your violin and your bag. Hurry up, hun."
Christine shuffled off, reluctant to give up her violin to the care of airport personnel.
"You must be Rachel." Mr. Wammy said politely, holding out a hand.
Rachel shook it. She suddenly felt very conscious of her scrubs, which clashed sharply with Mr. Wammy's crisp suit.
"That's me!" She said brightly.
"Don't be nervous," Mr. Wammy smiled, his eyes crinkling pleasantly. "Christine is will be just fine."
"This is…the best thing for her. A girl that smart can't spend the rest of her life in a hospital…she has to use that intelligence."
"But something's bothering you."
"Yes. I don't know how she'll adjust to living with other children and to your staff. She's had a rough time, what with the things her stepfather did to her…" Rachel broke off, watching Christine closely examining the conveyor belt as it moved. "She's very shy around new people, especially men."
"We'll win her over, don't worry," Mr. Wammy said reassuringly.
"I hope so..." Rachel said, smiling in a burned-out sort of way.
Christine returned, her face and hands covered in sooty black smears. She took one look at Mr. Wammy and took a few steps behind Rachel, burying her smudgy face in Rachel's shirt.
"Christine, this is Mr. Wammy," Rachel said loudly. "Why don't you say hi?"
Christine raised her head. "Good morning, Mr. Wammy," she said in a small voice.
"Good morning to you too, Miss Christine," he said, smiling gently. "Can't miss your flight can we?"
Christine shook her head, took a deep breath, and took her face out of Rachel's back.
"Will you write to me, Rachel?" She asked, eyes to the ground.
"Oh…of course I will, Chris," Rachel said, tears coming to her eyes. "Go on, now. You can tell me all about this when I write, okay?"
With a small smile, Christine followed Mr. Wammy to their plane terminal. Rachel waved after her, watching the little girl and the old man disappear from sight.
Above the Atlantic Ocean, 7:23 A.M, October 17, 2003
Ember looked out the window of the plane, exited beyond belief. Her dark brown eyes took in the clouds surrounding the plane with glee, but were fixed on the engine on the wing. Between her fingers she was weaving a chain of strings, unconsciously sitting cross legged as she watched the tube-like piece of metal whir.
Suddenly she stopped weaving, and moved the loops of the string to her left hand. With her right she began drawing a diagram, detailing what she believed the engine to look like on the inside, as well as how it kept the plane aloft.
She skipped up the row of seats, the string fluttering behind her as she did so. Practically shoving the diagram in Watari's face, she asked, "Am I right?"
The old man took it and studied it for a moment, then nodded. "Very good," he murmured. It never ceased to amaze him how seven year old girls like her could hide so much genius behind their innocent eyes.
Ember giggled and ran back to her seat, flipping to the next page and beginning to sketch, making improvements to the engine, using what little she knew about the plane to her advantage.
The dark-haired teenager seated three rows behind her thought silently, his toes rubbing against each-other as he pondered the little girl's uses.
Ember, now KamiOri, was unaware of this as she flipped a piece of straight brown hair behind her shoulder, making precise lines on her pad while weaving with one hand.
Laconia, New Hampshire, 6:37 P.M., October 17, 2003
Molly sat on a grassy hill overlooking Lake Winnipesaukee. She already had her things packed and ready to go. Not that she had much. She had several books, her music, many repetitive outfits consisting of black tank tops, skinny jeans, socks, and her precious lace sleeves. She had one pair of slippers to put on her feet so she wouldn't be kicked out of public places. She had two hair accessories, a pink satin ribbon, and a cherry blossom hair pin from her mother. Molly had her makeup, which was only different brands of black eyeliner pencils, and then she had her training gear, which was a giant ninja star, and a kunai blade. Molly pulled out her iPod, the last gift she'd received for her tenth birthday before her mom was killed. After switching it on, she set it to play one of her favorite songs, Gomenasai by t.A.T.u. Leaving one earphone dangling, the other in her ear, she began singing along with the song, willing tears not to fall as she put on her slippers and headed to the airport to meet up with Mr. Wammy.
She arrived shortly before seven o'clock, a little earlier than what she had planned. Molly found the gate where she would be leaving from and took a seat. Several minutes passed and she spotted a figure dressed in what looked like an expensive suit, a bit of white hair adorning his head and a mustache decorating his face.
"That must be Mr. Wammy," she decided. He approached her with a kind look on his face. Upon reaching her, he stuck out his hand.
"I'm Quillsh Wammy, but you can call me Watari."
Molly looked at his hand, then at his face, back at his hand, and then she stayed staring at his face, looking into his eyes. He withdrew his hand and straightened up.
"I'm going to guess you're Molly." She nodded.
"I also go by Ninja, or Nin, but can you tell everyone to call me Kuno?" Molly spoke in a soft voice.
"Of course. Are you ready to leave, Kuno?" She nodded again. Picking up her bag in one hand, she linked her other hand with Watari's. He led her to the plane and down the aisle to a secluded section for the two of them. She took her seat by the window. Kuno turned the volume up on her iPod, hearing Ghost Love Score by Nightwish playing. She grabbed her book, Twilight, and settled in for the flight.
Somewhere outside London, 3:45 P.M., October 18, 2003
Samantha sighed, pouting as she rode in the bus. It was a public thing, the seats hard plastic, the windows stained with bugs, water, fingerprints, and things she did not want to speculate on. She was going to some orphanage for super-smart kids, right?
Then why did they go there IN A SCHOOL BUS. Sure, it was a nice bus, but riding in it for the last hour had soured her mood, and the next six hours did not look very appealing. Across the row, the man who called himself Watari was typing on his computer. She watched his fingers move for several minutes, almost like a blur. She caught words here and there, short words like "A," "And," "The," and single letters. She caught only three, though she was sure there were more. P, K, and V were the ones she caught. He was writing about her, then. Her letter was "P," for Pyra.
She had liked the name, it sounded exotic. Plus, it was taken from "Pyro," her brother's nickname for her. Her hair was the color of flames, so it made sense. Grey-green eyes returned to the man's face. He was not as old as he first seemed, only around sixty or so. He would have been... Not really handsome, but nice-looking...when he was younger.
Samantha saw a challenge. What would Watari look like without the ages the world had added to him? The genius in her known as "Pyra" began to draw.
The same man sat in the back of the bus, a computer on the seat beside him. A camera directly above Pyra showed what she was doing. He nearly fell out of his seat when he saw a younger Watari emerge from the page.
She would also be useful.
Chicago, Illinois, 1:24 P.M., October 19, 2003
Rae sat cross-legged on a bench as the L train pulled into the station. She was attempting to balance a book in her lap while listening to music and eating a particularly delicious pear. She glanced up as people rushed on and off the train. No one stood out in the crowd, so Rae returned to her book. By the time the train screeched out of the station, she was completely absorbed in her novel.
A few moments passed before a gloved hand tapped her on the shoulder. Rae was startled and her book, iPod, and pear went tumbling to the floor as she jumped from her seat. Before her stood…Alfred? He certainly could have passed for Batman's butler, but she had a feeling this man would be offended if addressed him as such. 'This man must be Mr. Wammy,' she concluded. Three weeks ago every child in the foster home in which she lived was ordered to take a test. She scored highly and was awarded a place at a prestigious orphanage in England. She was waiting for the proprietor of Wammy's House, Mr. Quillish Wammy, to take her to her new home.
"Hello, I'm Rae Keller!" she declared happily, sticking out her hand for the old man to shake.
The man huffed causing his mustache to ruffle. "You mean Plague."
Rae retracted her hand and laughed awkwardly. "Yeah, that too."
Watari gazed at her with distain. "Follow me," he ordered.
"Gotcha," Rae mumbled, hastily picking up her belongings. She didn't have a lot: a bag of clothes and books and a bright red cooler. She carried the cooler as though it contained a deadly germ, which in fact it did, though she wasn't about to tell Wammy that. She figured potentially lethal viruses and bacteria were a no-no at Wammy's House (even if they were only potentially lethal as she was often her peers). How wrong she was.
Watari glanced back at the girl as she clumsily made her way down the stairs bumping into other L train patrons and spouting hasty 'excuse me's while attempting to hold a securely sealed cooler. Watari shook his head. He didn't care much for teens to begin with, but he could deal with them if they weren't incompetent. 'Why did L pick this girl of all people?' he thought. She didn't seem to have any weird quirks, other than being clumsy, and she didn't seem overly bright. She seemed to be a normal fifteen-year-old girl.
Watari helped her into the black limo parked beneath the rattling station. As he sat in the driver's seat he told her, "We will board a plane that will take us to London. There you will meet a few of your fellow genii."
While contemplating how she was going to get her cooler past airport security, Rae began giggling.
"Do you find something humorous, Plague?"
Attempting to stifle her giggles, Rae said, "Sorry, it's just that genii makes me think of jinni which makes me think of an orphanage full of I Dream of Genies which…" she then noticed the look Watari was giving her due to her babbling, "…I'll shut up now."
Watari pursed his lips. It's worse than I thought: she's an absolute ditz.
On a ship to London, 5:04 P.M, October 20, 2003
Vivi hung over the side of the swaying ship. Her face almost green with sickness. Her older brother, Rapheal, was holding back her hair and patting her back. He smiled wryly at her. "See, this is why I told you not to eat any of your sweets while on the ship." He murmured as he fixed his black rimmed glasses.
Vivi brought her head back up, scowling at her brother, and went to sit down next to Watari as he typed about the new arrivals. Watari handed her a towel to wipe herself and she smiled. He was kind. She sat cross legged on the chair and began making a Watari paper doll as he watched.
Her brother would not be able to accompany her further than the port, due to security reasons.
A young man with shaggy black hair crouched near the mast, holding onto it with one hand as he watched his possible protégé happily fold the paper into a doll.
Chapter 1
London, October 21, 2003
Vivi and Rapheal finally arrive at London after the stomach turning trip. She went and grabbed her things: her bags of cookies and her boxes of ice cream and her folding papers. She smiled, holding them close and walking off the ship.
She tripped at the bottom but saved her sweets. She got a scrape on her chin and bruises up her arms. Rapheal rushed to her and lifted her up, examining the wounds.
"This is why you watch where you are walking!" He scolded. He pulled out a towel and cleaned her off in order to beat back any infection from the unsanitary dock wood.
"Thank you, Neko. At least I saved my things! I'm sooo happy. I would have been lost without them..."
She almost cried but held back her tears with a large grin, showing off her dimples. Rapheal only smiled at his younger sister and walked off holding her things for her. When the two of them got off they met up with Roger.
"I'm sorry, but you can not come, sir," Roger said to Rapheal.
Rapheal's eyes widened in shock at Roger. "Are you serious!? I came with my sister and I was supposed to come as well! I'm supposed to be at Wammy's house. You can't do this to me!"
Roger looked at the boy and studied him, then went off to the side and talked with Mr. Wammy himself. After a while of yeses and nos, Roger came back.
"Alright you are aloud to come as well," Roger said shaking Rapheal's hand and apologizing for the inconvenience. Rapheal thanked him and held onto Vivi's hand.
"So we can go now right, right?!" Vivi said staring at the limo. "Oh my gosh a limo, I've only seen these in pictures but this one takes the cake... mmmm cake."
Vivi began to drool as she sat down in the back of the limo. Rapheal sighed and wiped her face clear. His little sister could be a bit of a ditz sometimes...
It took a little over thirty minutes to reach the hotel, where they were to pick up the other five children.
Once Mr. Wammy, Roger, Rapheal, and Vivi arrived at the hotel room where the other five genii were residing momentarily, Watari counted the children. They were one short. Quickly examining those present, Watari determined who was missing. "Where's Plague?" he asked exasperatedly.
Rae stealthily peered around the corner of the fancy hotel. She had heard a rumor about a possible streptococcal bacterial infection and she wanted a sample. The corridor was empty but she wasn't taking any chances. Holding the plastic tube in her hand she slowly walked into the hallway. She began walking backwards, her eyes trained on the elevator. She felt a bit like a spy in a movie as she crept backward down the corridor. She glanced at the doors passing her by: 1104, 1106, 1108…she was close, very close. Then…
Thump!
Boom!
Crash!
"Eep!"
Rae walked backward right into a maid's cart, her rear proceeding to become stuck in the trash bin. Blushing madly, Rae attempted to hoist herself out of the trash bin. The cart wheeled around the corridor, bumping into walls as she thrashed about. Eventually getting unstuck, Rae brushed the trash off her jeans, straightened the lab coat she had commandeered from a hospital in Chicago, and surveyed the corridor. "Nobody saw that, right?" she asked herself. Seeing no one, she nodded in confirmation. "Right."
Picking up her dropped plastic tube, Rae continued down the hallway, this time walking normally. "1116. This is it." Rae knocked on the door. A woman in her forties answered.
"Can I help you?" she asked in a scratchy voice.
"Yes," Rae replied confidently. "I'm with hotel management. I have reason to believe that you may have strep throat, and, according to hospital policy, I'm going to need a sample." Rae held up the plastic tube containing a long Q-tip, another item she'd commandeered from the hospital.
The woman glanced wearily at the device then at Rae. "You seem a little young to be a doctor, and I've never heard of that policy."
Rae made a "pfft" noise as she pushed her way into the hotel room. "I just look young." She then rounded on the woman and pushed her into a chair. "Trust me. Now open wide."
"I think I'll call the front desk first," the woman said, reaching for the phone.
Seeing her opportunity diminish, Rae pounced. She held the woman's nose closed, cutting off her air supply and thereby compelling her to open her mouth. Rae then forced the Q-tip down the woman's throat, causing her to hack and gag.
Rae pulled out the Q-tip, slid it back in the plastic tube, and smiled widely. "Thank you very much, ma'am!" She then bolted for the door while the woman called security.
Five minutes later, Watari heard a loud knock on the door. The young genii turned to the source of the sound, curiosity evident on their faces. Watari opened the door and found a burly security guard roughly holding the arm of one of his new students, who was blushing and smiling guiltily.
Holding up a plastic tube, Plague said, as though offering it to him, "Streptococcus?"
Watari glared at Plague. "I can handle it from here. Thank you," Watari said to the security guard. Returning his glare to Plague, he ordered, "Gather your things. We're leaving." Plague guiltily ducked her head and rushed into the room.
Ori got into the back seat of the limo, almost afraid to touch the leather with her bare skin. She loved cars. She loved them more than airplanes. In fact, the only thing she loved more than cars and cameras happened to be motorcycles. She crossed her legs, buckling herself into the seat next to the red-head.
Pyra sighed, already bored. Pulling out a pad of paper, she began to draw whatever came to mind.
Plague also clambered into the limo while simultaneously trying to put a Petri dish in her red cooler, the same Petri dish on which she had not moments ago smeared "Possible Streptococcus Strain: Trouble." Plague enjoyed naming her strains.
Molly climbed in the sleek black limo and took a seat next to a girl with a labcoat on. She didn't say anything, merely paying attention to her iPod. She removed the slippers she almost never wore and pulled out another book seemingly from nowhere. It was another of her favorites. It set a slightly sad mood, however, so Molly changed the song to one on her "sad songs" playlist she had created.
Christine climbed into the car, clenching her hands around the handle of her violin case to hide their shaking. She sat rigidly in a seat next to the other children, occasionally casting them apprehensive little glances out of the corner of her eye.
Not one looked entirely normal, yet she could not find anything particularly threatening about them.
You're being irrational! She told herself. She eyed her shaking hands, trying to make them stop. Sadly, her will was not enough. If anything, the tremors intensified.
Ori blinked at the person next to her, curiosity in her eyes. She always knew when someone was uneasy or angry or sad no matter how much they tried to hide it. Her young eyes could look a person over and immediately profile them. That being said, if anyone professional tried to hide something from her, they would succeed.
She eyed the person's shaking hands, and frowned. "Are you okay?" she asked, concerned.
Vivi eyed the children in the car and smiled. She felt like she should say something but every time she tried to she couldn't think of something to say. Her brother sat with his hands folded on his lap. Rapheal sat with his eyes closed and tried to think of noises to stop the ear shattering silence. Vivi then looked at the shaking girl holding her violin and she began folding a paper to look like her. She put the paper doll on her finger and waved to the girl. "Hallo, little girl. Don't be scared of ze peoplez here. We are nice; I am sure." Vivi smiled.
Plague chuckled slightly at Vivi's antics as she peered at the group from behind her book.
"F...fine. I'm fine," Christine stuttered, pulling her knees up to her chest and peering at them over the top of her violin case. The cold black plastic was not comforting in the least. "D...don't worry about m...me." Her eyes widened as she saw the paper doll.
Irrational!! She thought desperately. Stop being so irrational! But she couldn't do it. A surge of panic ran through her and she hid her face behind the violin.
Ori frowned, leaning close enough to almost bump noses with the other student.
Suddenly she backed off, grinning. "I'm Ori! What's your name?"
Pyra looked over at the sudden noise, and raised an eyebrow. Bipolar much?
"I'm C...C...Christine," Christine said, wincing at the stutter. The psychologist had told her she was done with the stutter, but, evidently, the psychologist had been wrong.
"Really? Wow, your alias is cool! From what I heard, not very many aliases were normal names!" She giggled at the end of her sentence, and looked out the window. "OOH! LOOK!" She pointed at a motorcycle they passed. "Isn't that one cool?" She sighed like a fan-girl and turned backwards in her seat to watch it and daydream.
Christine stared at the motorcycle but didn't say anything. "A...alias...?" she asked, looking over the violin case at Ori. "I didn't know I had to have an alias." She was slightly angered that no one had alerted her of this sooner.
Plague lowered her book to her lap and smiled at Christine. "That's alright," she assured the younger girl. "I made the same mistake and I already knew about the whole needing an alias thing. Just choose a name that suits you. I'm Plague by the way."
Meanwhile, not paying any mind to the others in the limo with her, Molly began to sing while she read:
Don't tell me
You're done for
I don't need to hear
You're done for
You can tell me what you are running from
I need you
More than you need youAfter Plague introduced herself, a soft voice from beside her captured her attention. Turning away from the shy girl with the violin case, Plague looked to the other genius seated beside her. The girl was cocooned in her own world by a book and an iPod, to which Plague realized she was quietly singing along. Plague turned to the others in the limo noticing that the girl currently serenading the group had captured their attention as well.
Well I can see you're really, really running
Can I ask you, where you gonna run to?
And you think you're really, really funny
Well I don't think you're funny as you do
We all feel like we're breaking sometime
But I won't give you up tonightChristine smiled at the singer, tapping her foot on the seat to the rhythm of the song.Stay awake
Stay awake, survive
I've got nineteen stars that I
Gave your name tonight
I wanna scream
Wanna scream your name
Starlight, starbright can save
You're my wish tonight
Don't tell me
It doesn't matter
I'll tell you
What matters
Bare feet in the summer
Open windows at night
You think that no one needs you
You have nothing to see through
Well I need you
Don't I count?
Let's fight
Show me anger
Fierce fists, clutching onto air
Show me anything
Just show me you care
Stay awake
Stay awake, survive
I've got nineteen stars that I
Gave your name tonight
I wanna scream
Wanna scream your name
Starlight, starbright can save
You're my wish tonight
No one can catch me
The way that you catch me
The way that you keep me, when I'm out of time
What if I need you?
When I can't see you?
And I'm running out of life
No one can catch me
The way that you catch me
The way that you keep me, when I'm out of time
What if I need you?
When I can't see you?
And I'm running out of life
Please…
Stay awake
Stay awake, survive
I've got nineteen stars that I
Gave your name tonight
And I wanna scream
Wanna scream your name
Starlight, starbright can save
You're my wish
You're my wish, my wish
You're my wish
TonightMolly looked up from her book to change songs on her iPod when she noticed everyone staring at her.
"Uh...why's everyone looking at me?" she asked, eyes wandering. She shifted nervously in her seat.
"That was very nice," Christine said. "That's why we're staring."
Molly shut off her iPod and put a bookmark in her book before setting it on her left side, on the empty seat. She glanced at the shy looking girl holding a violin case, noting that this was the girl who had complimented her.
Christine pulled the violin case a little closer to herself, still slightly uncomfortable around the other children. This impromptu serenade had given her an idea. "My name's Music...what's yours?"
"My name is Ninja, but I prefer Kuno," said girl spoke softly. Molly saw the girl who introduced herself as Music pulling out her violin.
"So...um...how well do you play?"
"Well enough, I guess." Music replied, smiling bashfully.
She looked at the instrument with an expert eye. Customs had not been kind to it; one of the pegs had been dislodged and the E string was hanging limp against the fingerboard. Music held the violin carefully in her lap, deftly twisting the peg into its proper position. Every now and again she would pluck the string, shake her head at the sounding note, and adjust the peg again."Are you planning to play us all a song?" Kuno asked the younger girl. She watched as Music adjusted her violin, shook her head when the note she sounded was off, and adjusted it again.
Kuno didn't think she'd get an answer until Music was finished tuning her instrument, so she turned the older girl beside her.
"So, what's your name? If I'm making you repeat yourself, I apologize. But I think it's safe to say that I wouldn't have heard you if you said anything earlier," she said sheepishly.
Music, who had finished tuning her violin and was ready to answer Kuno's question, blushed bright pink. "I...I dunno." She glanced at the violin, pressing it close to her chest. "I wasn't really planning on playing for you and I don't know if...I don't think I could...I mean..." she trailed off into silence, clutching her instrument as if her life depended on it. "I'm probably so out of tune anyway..." she finished in a very small voice.
The older girl next to Kuno looked up from her book which she was only half-reading due to the excitement around her. "Oh, I'm Plague," she responded to Kuno's question directed at her.
Kuno looked to Plague as an expression of slight confusion and a dash of shock danced across her features.
"Plague?" she repeated to herself. She then took in Plague's outfit, noticing the labcoat. Oh, she must like science and experimenting with bacteria. Kuno thought.
Turning to the newly dubbed Music, Plague smiled brightly, trying to put the girl at ease, and said, "I'd love to hear a song if you wouldn't mind."
Music's hands began to shake again, tiny fingers trembling against the strings. The only person she'd ever played for was Rachel. She shook her head vigorously at the two older girls, afraid she might stutter again if she spoke.
Kuno was pulled from her thought processes by Music's reaction. "Well, if you think you're out of tune, why not practice to check and see? And besides, I think it'd be lovely to hear you play. Please?" she tried persuading Music.Ori blinked, drawn back from her daydream about motorcycles. "I want to hear you play!" She picked up on the conversation immediately.
Music shook her head again. She was starting to feel slightly sick.
"L…look." She said, fighting to keep her voice steady. "C…can I play like this?" Extending her arm, she showed them all her trembling hand. "I can't."
Vivi looked at the girl named Music and sat cross legged in the seat. "Well if you can't play then you can't play. We want you to sound your best. Maybe when you warm up to us you'll play for us. It'll sound nice. I always liked the sound of a violin; sometimes I wish I could play it, but the last time I tried it sounded like that cat that slept with me at night in the abandoned school." Vivi's eye twitched then smiled again. "Oh I forgot to tell you all. I'm Vivi, and this is my silent brother, Neko." She pointed to the older teenager that had been asleep the whole time.
Music smiled nervously at Vivi. "It's v...very nice to meet you both. And yes, I'll play l...later."
Kuno gave a lopsided grin to Vivi and her brother. "Nice to meet you, Vivi."
Plague smiled and waved in greeting.
Vivi pulled out the finger puppet that looked like Music and drew a smile on the face of the paper doll. "YAY! Now we are friends. Right?" She made the finger puppet nod, and pointed it at Music's direction. "Right?" She grinned almost like the Cheshire Cat. Vivi cocked her head to the side, now looking at Kuno, and smiled with her head still in the same position. "Nice to meet you, too."
Music reached out, patting the puppet gently on the head. "I guess we can be friends," she said.
As she reached for the doll, she exposed her arm. Vivid pink scars crisscrossed up her pale skin, some disappearing under the sleeve of her overlarge T-shirt, only to reappear, snaking up her neck and cheek.
When Plague saw the scars on Music's arm, her eyes narrowed. Plague wasn't going to pry, the girl was timid enough at it was, but she was going to keep and eye on her. After all, she'd taken care of many abused children she'd met in the numerous foster homes in which she'd lived. Music was going to get better. She'd make sure of it.
Ori made a face that made her look almost as wide-eyed as an anime character. "WHOA."
Pyra looked at her. "What?"
"Naaaathinggggg..." Ori grinned. "Anyway, it's nice to meet you, Vivi!"
Upon hearing Ori's exclamation, Kuno flashed her eyes over to Ori, to see what had interested her. Noticing her eyes on Music, Kuno cast a cautious glance at the shy girl. She saw many scars decorating the girl's arm. This girl can't be any older than ten! Why does she have so many scars? she thought to herself. Kuno withdrew herself from the conversations going on around her, drew her knees up to her chest, and hugged them to herself before grabbing her iPod and turning it up full volume.
Seeing the scars on Music's arm had reminded her of her own angry, red scars on her arms. She was glad to have her lace sleeves on. They hid the cuts well. She rested her head on her arms, which caused an earphone to fall out of her ear. The song playing partially filled the car.
"...That night he caged her, bruised and broke her..." the voice sang.
"Oh, oops. Sorry..." Kuno spoke softly, picking up her earphone.
Plague glanced over at Kuno. Plague may have been ditzy at times, but she noticed Kuno's reaction to Music's scars, and she knew what that meant. Plague sighed. She thought that maybe the kids at Wammy's wouldn't be like the kids from the foster homes in Chicago. She knew it was selfish to assume so, but she'd seen so many broken children in her life, and it hurt her immensely. She wrapped an arm around Kuno, and smiled placidly at her. Plague had taken care of the broken children in Chicago. It was her job, and if the children at Wammy's needed her too, then she'd be there for them.
After replacing her earphone, Kuno felt an arm wrap itself around her. She looked up curiously, and saw Plague smiling at her. She smiled back weakly, feeling tears well up in her eyes. She mouthed a "thank you" to Plague and buried her face in her arms again, willing the tears not to fall. She didn't want to have any more unnecessary attention drawn to her, and crying certainly wouldn't help that.
Music watched their faces carefully. "I'm...m...m..." she bit back on the words, trying with every ounce of willpower to force the stutter out of her speech. "I'm...s...sorry if this bothers you," she said, indicating her torn arms. "I can change into a different shirt if you w...want."
Plague smiled at the stuttering girl. "You're fine, kiddo."
Music returned the smile somewhat nervously, placing her violin tenderly back in its case. She folded her arms across her chest in an attempt to conceal the scars from Kuno. It was clear that the sight of Music's mutilated arms brought back some things that the older girl would rather not think about.
There was a thick silence permeating the car. The new Wammy's orphans sat ruminating on things they would've preferred forgotten.
To get her mind off the rather depressing atmosphere, Plague looked out the window. Tall, ancient trees lined the road. The fallen, colorful leaves shaded in the tints of autumn swirled in the wind the car created by passing. In a moment, the limo was turning into a long drive at the end of which stood a stately manor: Wammy's House Orphanage. Her eyes fixed on the prestigious building, Plague commented, "I guess we're here."